Bedrest
by PregnancyandBabies
Summary: Clint helps take care of Wanda while she is pregnant


Wanda lay back on the couch, her back aching from even the short time of standing up. Her belly was huge now, and the weight of it was causing all sort of problems for her, but the worst two were the swollen feet and aching back. She had spoken to an obstetrician about how it hurt to stand up for too long, and he had simply told her "So don't do it then." Which had, effectively, put her on bed rest. She also had a bit of an issue with the kicking - twins meant that she got twice as much of it as usual. She couldn't help but wonder if one of them had super strength, because there were little bruises blossoming on the left side, where she had been kicked especially hard.

Wanda actually did not mind the kicking too much, because it meant that her babies, still inside her as they were, were full of life. She wore the bruises like little badges of pride - ones she would certainly remind her children of when they were grown. She placed both of her hands on her stomach, resting them there, and on the right side, was treated to a light kick. At that moment Clint walked in, covered in little scrapes and bandages as usual, looking half asleep as he clutched his coffee.

"Quick! Clint! Come over here!" She called urgently. He practically spilled his coffee in alarm as he put it down and rushed over to her, "Shit, Wanda, you okay? Need any help?" He asked frantically, having taken her urgent tone to indicate an emergency.

"No, it's okay," She reassured him. "Look, put your hand here." She said, taking his hand - hot from having clutched the coffee, thankfully - and rested it over the foot of one of the twins. He frowned , looking at her suspiciously, not sure what he was supposed to be feeling for. He was about to open his mouth and ask when the baby kicked. Clint's mouth formed a surprised 'o' as he looked at her, blinking stupidly. "Is that...?" He asked, in awe, looking at her large belly, almost as if he was expecting to see something. "Yes." Wanda said softly, with a wide smile. Clint returned it, grinning even wider when he felt yet another kick.

"He did it again!" He said excitedly, "Wanda! He kicked again!" He informed her, hand still resting there. She rolled her eyes at him, "I /know/ that, Clint. I can feel it." She replied.

"Huh. Oh, yeah." He says, once he actually thought about it. "Does it hurt?" He wondered, unable to imagine what it must feel like. Getting punched from the inside, he supposed. Wanda nodded, "Yeah, yeah, it does a bit. I don't mind it much, though." She added, before Clint could get too worried about her. It might be a clichéd bird pun, but he was like a mother hen sometimes. She didn't know too much about his past, but Natasha had quietly told her that once, his wife at the time had had a miscarriage, and she didn't know how Clint would react to the pregnancy. He'd actually been great about it, visit her as often as he could, and always asked how she and 'the bump', as he called it, were doing. The only thing was that he worried a lot - tried not to show it too much, but she could see he did. She continued to explain, "If they kick, it means they're doing well." She explained to him. At that, he nodded, clearly understanding exactly what she meant.

"'I'm glad they're doing well." He said, "How long now? A month, right?" She nodded, replying, "Yes, a few more weeks." It was a bit nerve wracking. She had just about got the hang of this pregnancy thing - her morning sickness had finished, and she was getting used to the schedule of her regular lie downs. Her stomach was very large, and the skin was taught, but she had become used to applying the coconut oil at regular intervals. She had attended all her pre-natal classes, and knew exactly what to do. Theoretically.

"Hey, Clint?" She asked, drawing his attention away from her belly. "Mmm yeah?" He asked.

"Do you... Do you think I'll be a good mother?" She asked quietly, her nerves getting the better of her.

"Hey, I'm sure you'll be absolutely Wanda-ful." He replied, expression completely serious.

She stared at him for a long time, before being unable to contain herself, before snorting ungracefully, and hitting him. "Get out."

"Aww, come on, that one was good." He insisted.

"Your puns are awful."

"My puns are the **best**."

She rolled her eyes at him, before pushing him away. "Whatever helps you sleep at night. Now go and make me a coffee."

He grinned at her, but got up, and downed his own drink, which must have gone mostly cold by now, though it didn't seem to bother him. "One cappuccino coming right up." He said, heading over to the machine.


End file.
